SHIPWRECK BY DRINK. From Heywood's English Traveller. THIS gentleman and I Pass'd but just now by your next neighbour's house, Of ships and storms at sea; when suddenly, Upon the floor, as if he swam for life: 382 His oar the stick with which the fiddler play'd: A fourth bestrides his fellow, thinking to 'scape (As did Arion) on the dolphin's back, Still fumbling on a gittern.-The rude multitude, Watching without, and gaping for the spoil Cast from the windows, went by th' ears about it; The constable is call'd t' atone the broil; Which done, and hearing such a noise within Of imminent shipwreck, enters the house, and finds them In this confusion: they adore his staff, And think it Neptune's trident; and that he Comes with his Tritons (so they call'd his watch) To calm the tempest, and appease the waves; And at this point we left them. CROSS READINGS IN VERSE. N.B.-Every line in this piece is taken from standard poetical writers, and each read separately makes good sense; the humour lies in the combination. THE flow'ry May now from her green lap throws- With Scythians expert in darts and bows→→ Starting and shiv'ring in th' inconstant wind- The sun himself, with gloomy clouds opprest- 'Twas then his threshold first receiv'd a guestWho stays on shore, and toys with Sall and Sue. Each feather'd warbler tunes his various layTransform'd to combs the speckled and the white Long as the night to her whose love's away- Like some fair flow'r the early spring supplies- So have I seen on some bright summer's dayThe vulgar boil, the learned roast an eggWhere rougher climes a nobler race display— A dedication is a wooden leg. On some fond breast the parting soul reliesBrushing with hasty steps the dews awayWith waddling gait, and voice like London criesNor stops for one bad cork his butler's pay. Full many a flower is born to blush unseen- course And hurls the vengeance of the laws on gin- But now the clouds in airy tumult fly Their teeth will be no whiter than beforeWhile England lives, their fame can never die— For still new Harlequins remain in store. Forthwith the huge portcullis high updrew— 384 THE COMMON-PLACE BOOK. Whose feet came wand'ring o'er the nightly dew And boldly fought to save the British throne. Th' applause of list'ning senates to command- Now Night in vestments robed of deepest dyeWith new-born Day had gladden'd mortal sightTo whom Ulysses with a pleasing eye With head advanc'd, and pinions stretch'd for flight: Ah! think, thou favour'd of the powers divine To grace thy manes, and adorn thy shrine- Friendship! mysterious cement of the soul !- Scours wild along, disdaining all controul- So when a lion shakes his dreadful maue- THE END. |